The Sun God is a mystery to me. I have never heard it and I have not been able to find any recording of it anywhere.
I remember Sundays in the cold redbrick church, the smell of Mum's leather gloves and lipstick. During readings and sermons I would run imaginary horse races between the red, blue and green ribbons in my missal.
I’d smuggled in a small cassette player and bootlegged the show. The resulting tape (now long lost) was rarely played. It sounded like a Chuck Berry cover band rehearsing in an aircraft hangar. Which I guess it was.
It’s not a mistake to transpose your own experiences onto a song (or a poem or a novel or a painting…). It’s inevitable. It’s part of art. But it can be a trap if you’re not careful.
A group of young men in the corner sing along, happy drunk. It is their song. I drink my beer, my heart beats fast. The harmonica plays, the guitar keeps time, keeps strumming, then the chorus starts up again. When I close my eyes, I can hear Soren sing along too
It’s the middle of winter. Never mind, we’re wearing shorts and thongs. The sky is an unbroken plain of blue. Well, not entirely unbroken. Here and there, a pillar of white smoke plumes from a cane mill.
As a teenage boy in a dark suburban room, I was a long way from the turnpikes of New Jersey. I didn't have a job, a car or a girl, just an Apollo 10-speed bicycle and a dungeon I called my own. What on earth was I connecting with here?
David Oke California, April 1997 I’m a little embarrassed to say that my favorite driving song is from a fictitious band.
Nathan Johnson Edinburgh, Scotland; September 1997 Chumbawamba was in my face. Far from being a pop band that sang only about pissing the night away, they were, above all else, anarchists with a deep suspicion of government, politicians, the Church, landlords, bosses, union leaders and other forms and figures of authority. While I didn’t share all of their extreme views, their music and lyrics awakened something inside of me.
Stereo Stories' first concert for 2017 was a 90-minute show at The Stage Door Studio, an intimate performance space tucked away in a corner of the Wangaratta Showgrounds. The night kicked off with the starkness of State Trooper and finished with a rousing blues jam.